


On the Other Side

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: They're nothing to each other past simple acquaintances. Drinking buddies, at best. But there's more there.





	On the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescendmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescendmoon/gifts).



> My secret santa gift for [cresendmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescendmoon/). Happy Holidays!!

The first time they end up in bed together, it's like a dream. McCree's hands are all over him, roaming over and rubbing at his back, digging fingers into skin and scratching at anything he can reach when he starts to lose himself to sensation. They’re both a little bit drunk and both know they will blame this on the alcohol in the morning, even if they haven’t had nearly enough to justify the excuse. But they will both accept it and pretend as if it never happened.  
  
For now, though, Hanzo takes.  
  
Their bodies move together, so close in sync it’s like they’ve really done this hundreds of times rather than just imagining it. They even breathe in tandem, like this is some kind of practiced dance, though it’s anything but. And it ends too soon, with McCree collapsing next to him on the bed, naked and sweaty and out of breath. He resists the urge to take his hand, raise it to his lips; this was just to blow off some steam, just to relieve some tension. It was not a mistake, but some part of Hanzo feels regret all the same. Because this was the first time, the only time, and now he’s just going to want more.  
  
He falls asleep to the sound of McCree’s snoring and wakes up alone.

 

\-----

  
  
McCree comes back from a mission a few days later, and catches Hanzo in the equipment bay. Hanzo does not acknowledge him until McCree clears his throat and approaches. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry about… the other night. Had a mission in the morning and had to get outta there. Probably shoulda left a note or something, but…”  
  
Hanzo holds up a hand to silence him. “It is fine, McCree.” It is not fine. But how is he supposed to say that waking up next to the cowboy has been all he’s wanted for months now when they're little more than acquaintances, than occasional drinking buddies and training partners?  
  
“All the same, didn’t mean t’put you through any o’ that. I was… we were both drunk. It won’t happen again.”  
  
Hanzo looks away. He can’t stand to look at McCree’s face, the way his brow creases and the lines in the corners of his eyes squeeze and crinkle. Like _he’s_ the one who’s hurt.  
  
Hanzo closes the storage locker he had been stowing his arrows in. He wants to say more, but all he ends up saying is, “Very well.”  
  
And they go their separate ways. _It won’t happen again_ echoes in Hanzo’s mind as the jingling of McCree’s spurs fade into nothing.

  
  
\-----

 

It happens again.

There’s a spot on the roof that Hanzo sometimes likes to call ‘their spot,’ one that he had found once while exploring the watchpoint and had visited frequently, alone, to meditate (and, more often than not, drink his guilt away). McCree had followed him once, and since then, Hanzo has often come to this spot to find him already there and smoking by himself.  
  
That is how he got here tonight. He had planned to come up here alone to have a quiet drink, but had found McCree already half a bottle down before the sun had even set. The bottle is empty now, and the sake Hanzo had brought with him is nearly gone, too. He still feels somewhat alert, though, the cool air keeping him refreshed despite his relaxed mind.  
  
McCree is not so lucky.  
  
He lurches to the side, leaning heavily on Hanzo’s shoulder as he laughs. “An’ then… an’ then… he dives! Right off the side of the roof. Made a crater, even, can ya believe it?”  
  
No, he can't. Hanzo has no idea what McCree is talking about. The story had started with Genji and Tracer doing… something, and it seems to have ended on Reinhardt somehow. The leaps in logic probably would not have made sense even if he were sober. Hanzo wonders if maybe he should drink more to make sense of it, but decides he had better not. McCree can hardly sit upright; it would be foolish for him to get himself into the same state when he's already halfway there. Going further would just be harder on the both of them, so he stands, helping McCree up as he goes.  
  
“What’re we doin’?” the cowboy asks, blinking slowly.  
  
“I think it is time you went to bed,” Hanzo explains. McCree sways a little, but he manages to stay on his feet. Hanzo ducks beneath him and puts an arm around his waist (he hesitates; is that too familiar? It wouldn't have been a week ago, before they slept together), then allows McCree to sling an arm around his shoulder. They shuffle and stumble through the halls of Watchpoint: Gibraltar on the way to McCree's room, and despite the awkwardness of the two of them attempting to move together, the walk goes relatively well.

Until McCree stops.

“Wait,” he says, planting his feet down on the ground and digging his fingers into Hanzo's shoulder. Hanzo yelps at the suddenness of it, and his head snaps up to meet McCree's gaze.

“What?!” he hisses.

“Someone's comin’.”

Before he even has a chance to ask why that should matter, McCree yanks him aside and turns a corner. He pushes Hanzo back against the wall and crowds him, shielding him with his body against… whatever it is he hears. Hanzo can't hear anything. “What is--”

“Shhhhh.” McCree holds up a finger and presses it to his lips, then Hanzo's. “Or they'll find us.”

“Who will?” This is ridiculous and he knows it, but Hanzo keeps his voice lowered all the same, trying to tell himself he's not playing along because he thinks it will make McCree happy.

His question gives McCree pause. The cowboy frowns and chews the inside of his cheek (something he does quite often a substitute for smoking, Hanzo has noticed) as he mulls over his answer. But eventually he shrugs. “I dunno.”

With an explosive sigh, Hanzo lifts his hand to the inside of McCree's elbow to push him off. “Let me go, McCree,” he says, but McCree leans in closer, pushing further into his personal space. If he was close before, it was nothing compared to now.

“What are you…” The words die in his throat. He swallows. Hanzo is looking directly into McCree's eyes, which are half-lidded and downcast. McCree probably doesn't even notice how close he's gotten. From what Hanzo can tell, all the cowboy’s attention is drawn to his lips.

So he licks them, slowly. Testing. McCree lets out a shaky breath and follows the movement with his eyes. He leans in, but it's Hanzo who kisses him first. McCree kisses him back, though, slowly and hesitantly at first, then more insistently when Hanzo doesn't pull away.

Hanzo wants this. It would be so easy to just let it happen. And he does, for a time, burying his fingers in McCree's serape, tugging him close and groaning as their lips slide together. The only thing that pulls him back to the present, to reality, is the stench of liquor on McCree’s breath when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Hanzo remembers then that he can’t do this, that this is not okay, even though they're both drunk and they both clearly want this.  
  
He pulls away and leans back against the wall, watching. He watches McCree blink slowly, trying to figure out what just happened. He sighs heavily, from deep in his lungs. “...What do you want, McCree?”  
  
They’re both quiet for a moment. McCree looks around, as if trying to find his answer in the empty hall, in the flickering ceiling light a few feet away. For a while, Hanzo thinks he isn’t going to get an answer. But eventually, McCree leans in close again, and whispers it: “We’re almost to my room.”  
  
Another pause. Hanzo is pretty sure McCree wants him to ask him to elaborate, but when he opens his mouth to do so, he is immediately interrupted: “Just… wanted to drag this out a bit… spend a li’l more time… and…”  
  
His eyes flick down, then back up. A warm hand cups Hanzo’s cheek and McCree leans in again, but this time he goes right for the neck, kissing the spot just below Hanzo’s jaw. Hanzo can’t help but arch into it, can’t help the moan that rises from his throat. Taking it as a cue to continue, McCree’s other hand slides down his side and rests between his legs, pressing down lightly at first and then squeezing.  
  
“McCree--”  
  
“Shh,” McCree soothes. “Someone might hear us.” And that’s the only warning he gives before he drops to his knees.  
  
He leans in and kisses at Hanzo’s thighs through his pants, nuzzling into the fabric. It’s buildup, Hanzo knows it is, and two halves of his mind are warring at the idea that -- that McCree is down on his knees before him, ready and willing (and maybe eager, if he is reading this right), that McCree is down on his knees before him and _drunk out of his mind_. It’s wrong, and he knows it, but god does Hanzo _want_. 

So he does the only thing he can think to do. He lifts his leg up and rests his foot on McCree’s shoulder. He gets a quizzical stare in return, but then a smile when nothing else happens, and leans in again. Hanzo takes a deep breath.  
  
And he kicks.  
  
McCree falls backwards with a _thud_ and an “Oomph.” Hanzo walks to him, crouches down and offers his hand. McCree doesn’t take it at first, still disoriented as he is, so Hanzo instead gathers the cowboy up and forces him to stand.  
  
“Shit,” McCree mumbles when he’s on his feet again and Hanzo grabs him by the wrist. “Shit, Han, I’m sorry--”  
  
“You are _drunk._ ” Hanzo doesn’t look at him as he drags him forcefully down the hallway, the rest of the way to his room. He waits silently for McCree to open the door and let himself in, and crosses his arms when McCree turns sheepishly to him. Another apology is on his lips, but Hanzo stops him. “Good night, McCree.”  
  
The door closes. Hanzo can hear the anguished groan through it and he tries to hold his own in. He leans against the wall instead and slides down it, trying to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart.  
  
Something needs to be done.

  
  
\------

  
  
Hanzo doesn't let it happen again.

McCree avoids him for days. Weeks, almost. At first, he was glad; he didn't have to deal with any awkward conversations, and he was given time and space to think and reflect upon that night. But the longer McCree had avoided him, the more agitated and anxious he had gotten, and so he had resolved to speak his mind the next time he and the cowboy shared the same space.

He stands up from his seat as McCree enters the kitchen. The second he does, McCree tips his hat down to hide his face and turns, ready to leave, but Hanzo is faster. He crosses the room in long strides and grabs McCree by the shoulder, forcing him to stay in place and face him. “No!” he says. “You will not avoid me forever!”

McCree shrugs him off. “Don't wanna talk,” he grunts, then adds under his breath, “Surprised you do.”

That isn't good enough for Hanzo. In the back of his mind, he thinks that maybe he should let this go, let McCree go, so that he can get over his stupid infatuation with the cowboy. But he has no way of knowing if this really will be the end of it, or if maybe next time it will be him pinning McCree against a wall when he's drunk beyond reason. So he persists. “Fine. Then we will not talk. There is only one thing I wish you to know, anyhow.”

His heart pounds against his chest. He reaches forward and tangles his fingers in the soft, worn fabric of McCree's serape, and pulls the cowboy down close to kiss him.

It's brief and a little bit sloppy -- he had pressed too hard, had gone in at the wrong angle -- but something about it lifts a weight from Hanzo's shoulders all the same. He lets relief wash over him for the three seconds he and McCree are connected, and then relinquishes himself to nerves once again when he pulls away.

McCree stares, wide-eyed, at Hanzo. His cheeks are red. Hanzo is certain his are no better. But he clears his throat and brushes past McCree, out of the kitchen and into the hallway. “If you change your mind and decide you do wish to talk… you know where I can be found.”

He does not look back.

 

\------

 

There's a knock on his door hours later and Hanzo has to take a deep breath to still his fluttering heart before he goes to open it. When he does, he sees McCree standing there waiting for him, just as expected.

“Tried our spot first, but you weren't there,” he grumbles. Hanzo tries desperately to ignore the swooping in his gut at McCree calling it ‘our spot’ too. “Can I come in?”

Hanzo nods and McCree walks in, door shutting behind him. He looks around awkwardly for a moment before Hanzo gestures for him to sit down on the bed.

“Well?” he asks once McCree has been sitting there a few minutes without saying anything. McCree runs a hand through his hair, lifting his hat in the process.

“Hanzo…” he starts, and then falters again. It takes a second for him to gather himself and press on, but eventually he does. “I… I gotta apologize for the other night. I shouldn't have gotten so…”

“Drunk?”

“No. Well, yeah, but that ain't what I meant. Shouldn't have used that as an excuse to… get too friendly like that with you.”

Hanzo puts a hand to his mouth and fights down a laugh. “You would call that friendly?”

McCree looks up, almost affronted. “Are you really teasin’ me now, of all times? God, you can be an ass.”

“I am sorry,” Hanzo says, but he's still trying not to laugh. Something about this whole situation has him giddy. The way McCree is blushing, perhaps. “Go on.”

The cowboy sighs. “Right. Anyway, I got too handsy, and I would've gotten too mouthy too if you hadn't kicked me off. If you catch my drift. But…” He takes his hat off and fiddles with the brim as he looks up at Hanzo. “I get the feelin’ you didn't mind too much, if that kiss you planted on me earlier means what I think it does.”

Hanzo steps closer. “And what do you think it means?”

He's close now, close enough that their knees almost touch. He could easily stand between McCree's, spread apart where he sits on the bed. It takes every iota of self-control in him not to, but he manages. Until, that is, McCree reaches for him, hesitantly, and puts both hands on either side of Hanzo's waist. He pulls him in closer, and looks up at him with a brilliantly cheeky grin. “That I ain't the only one that's been dumb enough not to say anythin’ about how I feel?”

“And that you are not the only one who has been using drinking as an excuse to get close?”

“Got it in one,” McCree agrees. “So does that mean…”

Hanzo nods. “Yes.”

“Then can I kiss you? You know I've been dyin’ to.”

“Yes.”

At the same time, they lean in; Hanzo down, McCree up, and their lips meet in the middle. It feels strange, kissing while they're both sober, both eager and willing; it's strange, but it's freeing. Relieving. Like finally, a weight has been lifted from both of them, and they can feel it in the slide of lips and the way the other smiles into the kiss. 

Hanzo pulls away first, and McCree tries to follow for a split second before realizing that he also needs to breathe. When he opens his eyes, the sight of a smiling Hanzo greets him, and he can't stop himself laughing. Hanzo laughs too, and suddenly it's like nothing had ever happened between them, as if this whole time they had already accepted this was where they would end up.

They lean in again and hold each other, just enjoying the relief of finally knowing how the other feels.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I also have a [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests. Please check that out if you'd like to see more or to find out how to support me!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


End file.
